Beauty
by Myrielle
Summary: She has opened his eyes, and for the first time, he sees.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: She has opened his eyes, and for the first time, he sees.

**BEAUTY**

Always he looks. Across the room, across the dinner table, when his hand is locked in hers, when they fiddle with each others' fingers in the dark warmth of the cinema, in the light pressure of her hand on his leg when he drives. Always he looks. For he has seen beauty.

…………….

He did not recognise it at first. He had seen her through the glass, before he opened the door. Thick wavy dark hair, pale porcelain skin, features that could pass as mildly pretty but he had seen better. Or so he thought. Like all the others, his beauty, skin deep but blinding dazzled her and he thought that was the end of the matter. He would get his way as he always did.

What is beauty? He wonders when he first discovered hers. Perhaps it was in her passion, her strong gentleness that did not bend or sway but which remained standing even in the heart of a storm or when the sands shifted. Her loyalty to her friend— the richest man in Korea held no temptation at all— was always whole and it had impressed him. Untainted friendship was a rare and wonderful gift, that much he could understand.

Idealism has a glow about it that has not diminished for him. A person needs hope and for that moment, floating on a gem blue sea, he can feel the warmth that she has, which she keeps. She does not realise it yet but she has taught him something that no one else has: his secret heart, that sweet soft hidden self, is still alive.

He realises that she thinks there is something beautiful inside him. It is his act of helping her, of restoring her confidence and dignity that moves her, that has changed her mind about him. And that touches him. It terrifies him, this pure naïve affection, because he is afraid that the illusion will shatter for her and he will realise that he has been right all along about himself. He did not do this to get her attention; for once he did something unselfish. She is not doing this out of gratitude or to get something out of him. There is no money, no glamour, no name dropping, no boasting involved. It is budding affection, pure and simple. He has no idea what to do with it.

Beauty to him has always been measured, defined. How slender a woman is, how well dressed, how artfully she applies her make-up, how good she is between the sheets. All that is held up and found wanting or just plain irrelevant when it comes to her.

She is all fire and spirit even though she has given him her heart. She is unafraid of confrontation, or retaliation. When he crosses the line, she dashes water in his face. He realises then he has gone too far and though wounded pride silences him, he acknowledges that she is right to leave. But she comes back again in the night when he needs someone the most. She brings him in, lays him down and later he will recollect leaning on her shoulder, a feeling of relief that someone is there which layers his fractured thoughts. She defies his expectations once more.

He sees himself through her eyes and though he knows her heart must be breaking, she still speeds him on his way to his first love. Even as he steps out to pursue his dream, he wonders whether she is even real, how it is that such an unselfish person exists and why she even cares for him.

Her hands over his eyes, the trust he has in her, long nights and mornings spent for him. He finds her generosity, her courage beautiful. His hands are not the same, but it is his heart that has been healed.

And although she falters, this time, he is there to catch them.

Faithfulness, patience, a budding flower that blossoms into a quiet fire which burns but leaves him whole. Their letters keep them connected, delicate strands across the fabric of time. He has never felt the hours like this before, nor counted the days passed with such pleasure. Steps, tiny but sure, they all lead in her direction.

He wonders if any other man has seen her the way he sees her, as she is. At times there is a touch of fear that someone will try to take her away. Then he reminds himself that is her, so he is safe.

It is a different kind of return. While he is glad to be back in Korea, Yi Jeong knows what will make it feel like coming home and so he seeks Ga Eul out. After all, he has a promise to keep.

Soft whispers in the dark, a constant presence by his side even when they are apart, the tangles and triumphs of this relationship, a first for both of them. They settle into their little routines. Nothing has ever been as fascinating or comforting as this. He knows what that slight pout means; she learns how to handle him each time the call arrives. They realise that differences are best resolved by compromise, humour and a good dose of humble pie on either side when it comes to making that first move to reconciliation.

In the morning light that floats through the partially closed curtains, he wakes and gazes at her. Pale limbs on dark sheets, her cheek pillowed on her palm, her steady breathing a sure indication that she will keep sleeping for awhile more. Very, very gently, he strokes her hair, folds her hand in his. She is here and with him. Time is streaming past even as he holds on to this moment and all he wants is more mornings like these, for the days and nights to stretch into years to come.

The diamond ring on her finger does not begin to measure her worth. Time has put the faintest silver in her hair which she religiously dyes over. Motherhood has put more curves on her figure. Raising a brood of five meant giving up the job she loved and excelled in. And although he is as involved with their children as he can be, it is usually to her that their daughters run to when they need a referee for their squabbles, or someone to order him to let them go on dates. For him, the years have not diminished her. He loves her more now than when they first began.

…………….

She is on the balcony of their room, looking up at the night sky. The stars are out in full force tonight and there is a slight breeze blowing. She has her white robe wrapped around her and the outline of her round belly, carrying their firstborn, is clearly seen. He stands there watching, entranced.

After long moments, she turns, as though sensing his presence. A smile wreaths her face and she comes to him. He delights in the feel of their child kicking in her belly; he imagines it is a greeting of sorts.

"Why didn't you tell me you were there?" she asks.

He smiles, kisses her one more time. "It is hard for a man to speak in the presence of a lovely woman."

She ducks her head and blushes. Two years of marriage have not made her immune to compliments. "I'll remind you of that the next time we discuss the baby's name."

Laughing, he picks her up carefully and carries her to the bed. After two weeks apart, he wants to make up for lost time and so does she. So they lose and find themselves in each other, revelling in the joy that each brings to this union, in the beauty of the moment.


End file.
